Inkblots
by shaku-chan
Summary: The members of Schwarz reluctantly follow their leader into the clutches of Ink, a new diabolical company bent on committing unspeakable acts of horror against humanity. Meanwhile, Weiss recieves a new mission...
1. Chapter 1

Inkblots

by shaku-chan

author's stuff: Please bear with me. I have a really good idea, I just need some time to form it. And since I've never posted anything to this account (although I was sure I had…hmm…), I get a few free chances. Yes? Yes. Alrighty then, on with the story.

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They watched the two men shake hands through the glass double doors.

"Sickening, isn't it?" Schuldig scoffed softly, so as not to let his voice waft through the thin walls separating the three Schwarz from their leader. "Didn't we just barely escape from the evil clutches of Esset?"

Nagi and Farfarello nodded slightly.

"And didn't we almost get ourselves killed fighting Weiss last time?"

They nodded again.

"So why exactly are we teaming up Ink?"

Twin shrugs.

"Crawford says, 'It would be in our best interest.' More like, 'It will give me great power, while the rest of you get flayed alive.'"

They didn't bother nodding, for Crawford had just turned and was headed in their direction. The double doors flew open.

"Success," he said simply, and walked away.

Schuldig waited until he was out of earshot before he repeated, "Sickening." The three rose to their feet and softly followed their master, Farfarello alone casting a sideways glance at the grinning man still standing in the tiny glass office. The fellow must've thought he was lucky, poor bastard.

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Their first assignment as official Ink personnel was to accompany the manager's daughter to her high school prom. They played rock-paper-scissors, and Schuldig lost. He then became completely intoxicated and the position was passed to Nagi. They all agreed this was for the best.

Nagi straightened his tie again roughly, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"It's straight," mumbled the one-eyed killjoy sitting on the bed. Nagi's response included a mixture of grumbled denials and swearwords. Farfarello laughed dryly, taking in the young boy's appearance. The long black tuxedo, made specifically for Nagi, only hugged his small hips slightly, and flared below the waist. The outfit betrayed no inkling of the near-anorexic frame of its owner. Nagi pulled at the tie again, causing it to tighten too much around his neck. He coughed, his face pulling into a scowl.

"I told you…" Farfarello hissed delightedly as Nagi pulled to loosen the bindings.

"I don't see why _you_ can't go instead," he rasped.

"Ah yes, wouldn't that be lovely. A white-topped Irishman and a dark-haired midget."

"She's as tall as I am."

"My point."

The door was flung open, and Crawford marched into the room, a multitude of wires dangling from his arms. "Since Schuldig is out of commission," he explained briefly, "we'll have to use conventional means of communication." If possible, Nagi's scowl deepened.

"I'm not…"

"You are. Now take it off."

Nagi straightened his face, and remained expressionless throughout the rest of the process. When the wires were secured and his outfit was back in place, Crawford left the room. The scowl returned.

Nagi straightened his tie roughly, staring at himself in the mirror.

"It's straight."

"Shut up."

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Once off of the apartment level shared by Schwarz, Nagi found it perilously difficult to walk. He forced the elevator doors closed before anyone had a chance to enter, and telekinetically short-circuited the chords to keep from stopping at each level. He moved the wires around inside his clothes, trying to find a more comfortable arrangement.

"Wh…ffsaresss…ou do…ssss…ing…?" Nagi grimaced as Crawford's voice crackled into his ear. Odd… it was working fine a minute ago. He shrugged, finally complacent as he found an acceptable placement for the wires, and stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor.

"What happened?" Crawford's voice rang out pure and true, and loud enough to make several people blink slightly in the young boy's direction. Of course, that might have been because of the yelp he let out, but who could be sure? He rubbed his throbbing ear, grateful when Crawford's much quieter voice whispered, "Better?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, forcing a quick pace and wiping off his expression.

"Have a good day, Mr. Naoe," called the doorman. Nagi nodded stiffly in his direction. Schwarz had had no need for fake names for over a month, but now that Crawford was back to his old tricks, they would soon be putting strange words into the hat again. Schuldig would convince Farfarello to share his last name in an effort to confuse people. ("No relation." …as if it weren't obvious.) Crawford would pick a name from the hat, changing it four or five times within the course of the day, until finally coming to the conclusion that his own name was common enough to keep. Nagi just kept whatever he got, except for the one time that Schuldig snuck "Schniedel" into the hat. Of course, Nagi didn't find out until a week later what it meant, and even then only changed it when Schuldig's nasally snickering kept stalking him around Esset.

Nagi stepped into a waiting limo, settling himself into the seat with a defeated sigh. Oh well, at least as the manager's daughter she had enough money for plastic surgery, and that meant she had to be at least a little bit pretty.

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Nagi's calm expression never wavered. Ever. Not when they were getting their asses handed to them by Weiss. Not when he was having to completely undress in front of grown men to place uncomfortable thin wires inside his clothing. And certainly not when the most hideous girl he had ever seen opened the door to greet him.

The plastic surgery hadn't helped.

Her face looked like it had been through a cheese grater, and her thin sequined dress only called attention to her lumpy frame. It dawned on him why she needed a hired date.

"Nice to meet you," he said evenly, pushing his hand forward. Her fingers felt like clipped toenails as she grasped it and let him lead her down the steps.

The ride to the prom was relatively short, Nagi finding out soon enough that she was easily pacified with one-syllable words and short grunts as replies to her long-winded, one-sided conversation.

The prom was at a regular school, and looked as plain and simple as any old school. A large gymnasium was converted into a large ballroom, and huge balloons loomed ominously over the entrances. No extra money to make this prom special.

They strode through the thick doors, Nagi letting the girl lead slightly. She threw her weight defiantly as she walked, reminding him more of a business executive than a teenage girl, and when they walked through the doors together, he thought he heard a few people snickering softly in the crowd.

"_Don't worry love…they're just admiring your lovely self," _whispered a nasally voice. He didn't bother turning around. There wouldn't be anybody standing there.

"_So I guess this means I don't get to wear these lovely wires anymore?"_ Nagi asked himself.

"_Not so fast, love. You know you can't leave your girlfriend unattended." _Nagi's eyebrow twitched. He cast a glance over at his 'date,' who had welded herself to his arm and was busily chatting to a group of gorgeous, but poor-looking groupies. They were all eyeing him hungrily. _"Need some help?"_ In spite of numerous warning signals flaring in the back of his mind, he nodded. Yes.

Suddenly, he felt a pang in his bladder.

"I'll be right back," he murmured softly into her ear.

"But you're supposed to stay with me!" she whined loudly, attracting the attention of numerous teens around them.

"I'm only supposed to protect you," he said coldly, "and we have someone else who can keep track of you right now." He signaled mentally to Schu, who agreed to follow the girl's movements, and headed to the boy's restroom, ignoring her horrifying expression and wolf pack posse, which had slowly been forming a circle of lustful death around him.

Once in the bathroom, he barricaded himself in a stall and wrenched open his tux. The wires criss-crossed every which way on his chest, and his first few attempts to get rid of them only led to him mildly strangling himself. Just as he was about to cut the chords using brain power, a fizzling noise echoed softly in his ear. He paused.

"Wh…sss…then, what are…ssss…supposed…ssssst…o do?"

He released the wires currently clenched in his fist.

"She isn't guarded now, is she?"

Not Crawford.

"No."

Not Schuldig.

"Then grab her."

And definitely not Farfarello.

His mind raced as he tried to pin the eerily familiar voices. Could it be…?

Nagi threw himself out of the stall and burst from the restroom, buttoning his tuxedo as he ran and gaining more than a fair share of curses from people he recklessly plowed over.

"_Schu, you there?"_

"_Couldn't get rid of me if you tried, love."_

"_Can you scan the area and check for any of our old friends?"_

"_What was that, kid? Mr. Always Has His Way was fussing at me about the girl. Something about…hey, can you see her?" _Nagi looked around wildly, and, spotting the gaggle of girls she hung with, stumbled up breathlessly.

"She isn't here," he said aloud.

"No, but who needs her, anyway?" a tall blond purred.

"Where is she?"

"She left with some guy. But really, who-?"

Nagi flipped around, shoving a few unfortunate dancers into their fellows.

"_Schuldig! I thought you were watching her!"_

"_Yeah, but you should get a load of this guy's mind. He's hell-bent on blowing up the school in the next-"_

"_SCHU!"_

"_Alright, alright. She's right outside. Ohhh…and you're not gonna believe who she's hunkered up with…"_

But Nagi knew exactly who she was 'hunkered up' with. He broke out just in time to see the pink Flower Shop motorcycle wanna-be speeding off into the distance.

"Please don't tell me…"

"_Sorry, kid. It's Wiess."_


	2. Chapter 2

Inkblots

by shaku-chan

author's stuff: Wow, so I guess this means I actually made it to the second chapter, hmm? Still with me? Good. I had a dream last night that the owner of the Weiss character signed the rights over to me, and the paperwork and I made sweet sounds together, but alas, it was just a dream. Hear that? The boys don't, nor will they ever, belong to me. Now go sue someone else.

note: If you read the first chapter a while ago, be sure to check for updates.

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Yohji stared at Manx, yawning and staring down at his watch, which had just fussed its way past seven o'clock. The sun cast blinding rays of light through the crack under the door and Ken's stomach growled in annoyance. Manx rolled her eyes, clicking on the view screen.

Omi wished that for just one day, the ancient television would fail to flip on.

With a loud blip, artificial light flooded the room. A blond haired, blue-eyed man's visage filled the view screen.

"Jeremiah Rosa, or rather Dr. Rosa, recently kidnapped one Christopher Frost, a member of the American branch of Kritiker."

"Kritiker has stations in America?" Ken asked no one in particular.

"Your mission is to find Christopher and bring him to Kritiker headquarters after eliminating Dr. Rosa. Hunters of the night, deny this dark beast his tomorrow." The screen flickered and failed, and Manx flipped on the lights.

"Is that it? That's all the information we get?" Yohji grumbled.

"Hardly," Manx grumbled back, passing out a photo to each member of Weiss.

Omi grimaced, but was unable to pull his eyes from the ungodly sight before him. It appeared to be a girl's face, but acne blemishes and scars marred the creature's skin so badly, it was hard to tell.

"This is Gabrielle Rosa, daughter of American businessman Jeremiah Rosa. Currently, she's our only link to the elusive Dr. Rosa, who disappeared shortly after fleeing America with Christopher Frost. According to inside information, she has a thing for cute Asian boys, and remains chatty with or without provocation. Her school Prom is later today. You'll find the address on the back of the picture. If you question her correctly, you might be able to find out something about her father."

Omi looked down at the photograph again, frowning. "Uhh, Manx? This girl… isn't she Asian? And… isn't her father Anglo?"

Manx grinned, "Ahh, adoptive father. But their personalities are remarkably similar. She's a firecracker and a surefire businesswoman, when she puts her mind to it. She runs a fourth of her father's corporation in America. Her only faults would be the two most obvious: her rather startling appearance, and the fact that she talks nonstop, whether her partner is listening or not. Use this to your advantage, boys." With those words, she stepped lightly up the spiral staircase and disappeared through the door.

Yohji yawned again, tossing the photograph onto the coffee table and stumbling up the stairs to make a beeline for his bed. He didn't have to work in the shop today, and they wouldn't start planning for the mission until they closed up at noon. Ken took off similarly for breakfast, leaving only Omi and Aya to open the Koneko.

Omi sighed. Manx had thrown in "cute Asian boys" for a reason. He would be the one to reel in the girl, and the thought of it made his skin crawl.

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Omi straightened his tie, staring at himself coldly in the bathroom mirror.

"Almost ready for your date, kid?" Omi turned his cold gaze towards the source of the voice, who grinned back sadistically.

"Yes, I'm ready, Yohji. No, it's not a date. And for the last time, stop calling me _kid_," he yanked his tie soulfully, brushing past the taller man, who was leaning with practiced grace against the doorframe.

"Better curb your enthusiasm. Wouldn't want the chickadee to suspect anything, now would you?"

Omi pasted a smile across his face, which appeared surprisingly normal under the circumstances.

"Much better, kid."

"You call me kid one more time," Omi smiled gleefully, "and on our next mission, I may _accidentally_ miss one or more of my moving targets." He laughed, Yohji laughed, and they walked together down the hallway, laughing all the way.

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Yohji scratched the back of his head, trying to dislodge the numerous spider webs clinging to his hair.

"Can you see anything?" came the slightly fuzzy voice of Ken. Yohji squinted through the iron grate of the ventilation duct.

"No."

"No, you're staring at a wall, or No, they haven't appeared yet?"

"Pick one," Yohji ground out irritably, jerking slightly as a cockroach plopped down inches from his face.

"Yohji!" Ken fussed, his mind focused on the mission.

"Fine! I see a whole lot of fine ladies who are only _slightly_ too young to f-"

"_YOHJI!_" Omi squealed into his ear. Yohji grinned at the boy's reaction. The kid could rip a man in two, but he couldn't stand even the mention of sex in any shape or form. Before he could let out an all-knowing chuckle, a small gaggle of teens caught his eye.

"Wait a minute, I think I see something…" Yohji held his breath as the swarm of girls shuffled into view. They were revolving around two people, most likely a couple, and the girl was most definitely their target. "Yup, that's her, all right. You ready, Omi?"

"Yeah."

The boy accompanying Gabriella whispered something in her ear and drifted away towards the restrooms, his back to Yohji.

"I've got the motorcycle right out in front," mumbled Ken softly, the voices of surrounding teens chittering slightly in the background.

"She's all yours, kid. Just be careful. She has some guy with her."

"Some guy?"

"Yeah. I didn't get a good look at his face, though."

"Well, then? What are we supposed to do?"

"She isn't guarded now, is she?" Aya's low monotone, the voice of reason, came softly into their earpieces. He would be sitting in the car with Omi right now, waiting for Ken to jump in so that they could swing around the back and pick up Yohji, and then speed to Kritiker, hopefully making it back in time to meet Omi and the girl.

"No," mumbled Yohji.

"Then grab her," Aya hissed, and Yohji saw his red locks shimmer briefly as the double doors opened and Omi strode in.

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"Excuse me, miss, but I seem to have misplaced my date."

Omi cringed inwardly as the thing twirled to face him. The picture hadn't done her justice.

"Oh, really?" she giggled, batting her eyelashes. Omi grinned unsteadily, suddenly unsure of how to pursue the frightening creature. "Maybe I can help you find her, yes?" He nodded stupidly, and she grabbed his arm, steering him back through the double doors.

Before he could inhale to woo her any further, he found himself pressed up against his own pink motorcycle.

"Let's get this straight, honey," she murmured, and he was overcome with an incredible urge to hurl as her less-than-sweet breath wafted across his face. "I'm not quite sure who you are, but I know exactly why you've tracked me down."

Omi's brain froze. Well, they did say she was a rigid businesswoman… Was it really that unrealistic that she would have information on Kritiker?

"And let me tell you now, it won't be that easy getting into my pants, or my pocketbook"

Omi snorted loudly, attracting the attention of whoever wasn't already blatantly staring. Pants…? Pocketbook…? He could've hugged her, if his stomach wasn't already convulsing with the sheer proximity of their bodies.

"I'm serious," she whispered, pulling her face into a seriously frightening expression, "You're going to have to try harder than this. Do you have connections?"

Omi pictured the Kritiker building, which was solemn and foreboding after dark, and nodded.

"Fine," she stepped back. He stood staring at her for a moment before she finally said, "Well…? I'm waiting!"

He nodded dumbly, pulling his keys from his pocket and stretching himself backwards into the seat. Her eyebrows shot up, "Wait, this… thing… is yours?"

"It's temporary until I get my newest import from Sweden," he said, the lies rolling easily from his lips. She scowled for a moment, then grinned, pulling herself with difficulty onto the back of the motorcycle. Once perched steadily on the seat, her vocal chords burst with speech. Omi smiled, making a sincere effort to act interested in whatever nonsense she was spouting, and revved the engine, his bike shooting forward to weave gracefully from the crowded parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Inkblots

by shaku

author's stuff: Third chapter! Mainly written thanks to a single comment by a single reader who said some really nice things and gave some really good tips… so thank you, Koneko Bombay.

Still with me? Good. I had a dream last night that the owner of the Weiss character signed the rights over to me, and the paperwork and I made sweet sounds together, but alas, it was just a dream. Hear that? The boys don't, nor will they ever, belong to me. Now go sue someone else.

note: If you read the first chapters a while ago, be sure to go back and check the top of the page (this section) for updates that might be crucial to the storyline.

**Update (1/19/06): **My timeline was a bit off (sorry), so I had to add some stuff in front of my previous submission. I hope nobody gets mad at me...

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"Where exactly are we going again?"

The small motorcycle had long since passed the main office district and they were now shooting past a multitude of shabby-looking shops and dark alleyways.

Omi turned around smoothly, throwing on as bright a smile as he could manage, and yelled over the wind, "Just a quick detour. I want to pick up something from my brother's shop. It'll only take a minute."

She opened her mouth to protest, but snapped it closed again when the vehicle slid to a halt in front of the Koneko no Sumu Le. Even from the outside, the strong scent of flowers wound enticingly around their heads.

"Your brother works _here_?" she asked dreamily, sniffing the air.

"Yup. Well actually, he owns the place. See those apartments up there? That's where he lives." Omi pointed above the Koneko where a single light shone through a dusty windowpane. So, the others had made it back in good time. Omi heaved a sigh of relief, hopping gracefully from the bike.

Just as he offered his hand to help her down, a loud splintering crash sounded from inside the flower shop.

"Did you hear that?" Gabrielle's forehead wrinkled as she strained to listen.

"Wait here," Omi whispered, rushing forward to unlatch the front entrance. He glanced back, but she didn't show any sign of moving. In fact, she now seemed rather relaxed, her fingers playing with the seam of her dress as her gaze drifted around lazily.

Shaking it off, he snuck under the door and entered the freakishly silent, dark building, leaving the entrance propped up slightly in case he needed to a quick escape.

His sense of smell adjusted almost instantly, already used to the shock of the shop's many odors, but his sight and hearing lagged a little behind. Why was it so dark? There was a shuffle behind him, from outside, and he could hear Gabrielle's grating voice rise cheerfully to greet some unknown body. Was it one of the Weiss? No…

As Omi bent down to pull up the metal security door again, he felt something dark slide up behind him. He tensed his muscles to turn, but before he could react a pair of thick arms circled around his torso, pressing a cold, moist cloth against his face. He jerked for a moment, growling into the fabric, but his mind quickly drifted into shadow and his body fell limp in the grasp of his huge assailant.

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"Hey boss, we did whatcha asked. Now whatcha wan' us to do with um?"

A long wail rose up on the other end of the cell phone, then a crash, and finally a high, whiney voice, "DAAADDDYYY! Daddy, how could you? I was finally-" the voice paused to inhale deeply, "I found this one on my OWN, daddy! I want to keep him! How dare you--"

The man listened to her wailing for a good five minutes before he even made an effort to console her, "Darling, daddy has a job to do. I promise you'll find another boyfriend. What happened to that nice Naoe boy?"

"Oh daddy, I _know_ you paid him to come with me! And for your information, he took off as soon as he got the chance!"

The man's eyes narrowed, "Took off?"

"Yes daddy, it was horrible! He-"

"Darling, put Hub back on the phone."

"But DAAADDDYYY!"

"_Gabrielle!_"

"…yes, daddy."

There was a clatter as the phone was handed off, and then the original voice reappeared, whispering, "Sorry boss, I didn' realize she was so close."

"No matter. I want you back in position in the shop. Nobody leaves _my_ little girl to be kidnapped."

"But boss, wasn't that the plan?"

"That's completely beside the point. Bring back young Nagi with our bunch or don't bother coming back at all."

"Yeah, boss. You got it."

The man flicked the phone shut and sighed. He sat alone in a dark office (he liked it dark), surrounded by a multitude of plants and photographs of his young, boisterous daughter. She really was getting to be quite a handful. Only a few months ago she fell into a state of rage at the merest mention of her appearance by a subordinate and he was forced to let yet another American factory slide into her ever-reaching grasp.

He stared at his reflection in the glass double doors. Was that graying, wrinkled creature truly him? No matter. He had no fondness for life anyway. The sooner old age arrived, the sooner he would be relieved of his mortal duties.

After resting a few moments, he climbed to his feet. Soon his men would arrive in the basement of the office building and require his assistance unloading their newest batch of cargo. He had to be sure and hide Naoe before Crawford popped up, or the appearance of the boy might ruin his entire plan, and he'd worked too long to be foiled by a technicality.

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Nagi, the esteemed "sane" member of Schwarz, known for his lack of emotion in times of crisis and overzealous apathy in the face of danger, came very, very close to throwing a bona fide teenage fit. So close, in fact, that a number of lumpy party balloons suffered serious physical anguish and committed suicide above the school door. The surprised shrieks of surrounding schoolgirls filled the air, followed by that annoying shuffle of subtle embarrassed laughter, and finished by the guys trying to act as though they hadn't just jumped three feet.

"Hey man, what a coincidence, ya know? All the balloons at once? I mean, what? We got a poltergeist or something?"

Nagi shoved his hands in his suit pockets.

"Heh… heh… yah, man, a poltergeist…"

Poltergeist his ass. He popped another one for good measure and walked away from the renewed chaos, feeling a bit guilty for pleasuring over such immaturity.

"_Having fun, love?" _Schu's honey voice drifted into his mind.

"_Yes, actually."_

He could've puked. He seriously considered puking. During his rush after Omi and his wretched date, the whole scene played out, more or less due to static interference, over the wires in his ear. He could hear Omi's sweet nothings and the girl's disgusting retorts (was she really _that close_ to his face!)

Even more aggravating, it didn't really seem like she was putting up much of a fight. Nagi ground his teeth and slid into the waiting open door of the black limo.

"To the Koneko, and step on it," he murmured. The car slipped forward and Nagi settled back into the seat, trying to relax his thoughts for the fight he knew was coming. Just as he was considering the issue of whether or not to relay these events to Crawford (and how, for his while the wiring seemed to function perfectly to display Weiss's secrets, there had been no peep from Bradly), a pair of cold arms encircled his neck. He jumped, instantly ready to retaliate, but relaxed as a stream of permanently alcoholic breath wafted across his cheek.

"Pleased to see me, mein leib?" Schu purred, still clearly within the clutches of his enduring intoxication.

"I'd be more pleased if you didn't reek of strip joint."

"Oye, other than coming here, I haven't left my room since the other night."

"My point exactly. And why can't you bring your dates to dingy motels like all the normal sex addicts?"

"Because," he sneered, causing Nagi to gag from the fumes, "I only do it to piss off Brad. Truthfully, I don't give a flying fuck about those damned hussies. And he wouldn't give a flying fuck if I weren't saturating our communal bed sheets with forbidden fruit juices."

Nagi turned his head sideways to escape the onslaught of toxic gases, "Honestly though, I'm overjoyed at the chance to bask in your company, but you're killing my senses, and I'm going to need them tonight."

"Aww, did our bonny lass get away?" asked the German, feigning sympathy. "Slippery one, that girl. Too bad we can't count on Weiss to slit her throat for us."

"Who says anything about slitting her throat? We're supposed to be protecting her, remember?"

"Whatever you say, love."

To Nagi's increasing annoyance, Schuldig crawled over the seat and plopped down next to him.

"But our bosses and their kin always find a good way to get themselves killed, if you haven't noticed. I'm just saying that her death is inevitable."

Nagi blinked at this moment of clarity, and was about to inquire further, but at that precise moment the car lurched to a stop in front of the Koneko. The pink motorcycle was perched outside the front door and the thin metal security barrier, meant to ward off criminals, hung unlocked a good foot from the floor. Sloppy.

"Wait here," Nagi mumbled, turning back to Schu, only to find that the German had passed out and was producing a steady stream of drool that pooled in the deeper crevices of the seat. Rolling his eyes, Nagi removed himself from the car and slid the door shut softly. Hopefully he could somehow manage to remove his charge (would they leave her alone long enough?) before Crawford had a chance to get his mental tentacles around the incident, if he hadn't already.

Sighing, he steeled himself and crawled underneath the small opening beneath the door.


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